


The Rather Useful Nature of Jet Star's Patented Speed Friendship Strategy™️

by the_void_fox



Series: you only live forever in the lights you make (void flare!verse) [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album)
Genre: Agender Void Flare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Backstory, Gen, Jet is mom friend, Social Anxiety, Void and Ghoul are both crazy mofos when they want to be, headcanons galore and lots of worldbuilding, some cryptic desert weirdness, zone slang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-04-12 02:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_void_fox/pseuds/the_void_fox
Summary: or, Void Flare meets a quartet of batshit killjoys and their dust baby, and consequently - if rather awkwardly - rediscovers the magic of friendship.A story in parts.





	1. A Rather Unexpected Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of a bunch of backstory I mentally wrote for my killjoy tumblr, but only really mentioned in passing until I started getting very attached to the character of Void Flare and wanted to finally do some Danger Days fic. What better way to start than a story already (mostly) thought out?
> 
> Void Flare tumblr: @dreaminginshadesofblueandgreen  
> Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/559EkF2QKBi7xSbvzHGI7r?si=ZhG5yKwrT7at_Nf_3Vrjng

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Void Flare isn't good with strangers.

_\---skskksskkks---eath Defying broadcasting to Zone 6, Killjoys. Got a package needs retrieving, and it's got a lotta history, so if our erstwhile little bookworm could nip down to my current corner of Zone 4 - I know getting here's no cakewalk, but there's food in it for you if you do - and collect their very, very late birthday present today, that'd be shiny. Here's an oldie but a goodie to get you in the mood for a get down the Getaway Mile, kid. All the way from before the bombs fell, "Collar Full," by Panic! at the Disco..._

* * *

Void Flare doesn't head beyond Zone 6 very often.

For one, it's a long way to any of the nearest 'joy-friendly settlements, and they didn't exactly have a Vend-a-Hack handy to easily get more batteries without paying top carbons. Those things were few and far between, and guarded jealously by those who'd managed to get their hands on one before all the best hackers had died out. They'd figure out how to make their own soon enough, though, once they had enough parts.

Dust kicks up behind them as the electric-blue battery bike whizzes down Route Guano (or, as they tended to not-so-affectionately call it, "Shit Creek".) Perhaps not the safest way to Zone 4, but certainly the fastest. They'd only passed a routine patrol so far - two men, both an easy stealth stun even from the bike. They could have gone around, Void supposed, but they were always twitchy about being spotted on retrieval runs. The cargo they were fetching was far too precious.

The half-submerged metal body of Destroya looms far on the horizon, and Void gives a solemn nod in its direction before passing the border into Zone 4. 'One day I'll visit properly again,' they mumble from beneath the bandanna keeping out the dust, turning back to view the road. 'Promise.' Especially with their dreams becoming more vivid. Something was up. Something big, Zone-changing.

And they suspected that whatever it was had something to do with the morning's radio call from Dr. Death-Defying.

Normally, when he wanted to exchange goods or when there were extra tunes to put in storage, he'd either send Cherri Cola or simply keep them in a box until the next time Void called in and let him know they'd be down Route Guano sometime in the next few days. Not today. Today, _he_ had called _them_ , which meant either something good... or something very, very bad.

Pulling down their bandanna and huffing a strand of teal-dyed hair out of their face, they slow the bike as the Diner comes into sight, frowning at the extra vehicle parked on the far side of the building beside the Doc's rusty old van. A Trans-Am, by what they could see of it, covered in dust and graffiti. Not many of those in the Zones, but they had no idea of who would have one at the present time. Maybe Cherri had found it on one of his scavenging runs, gearhead that he was. They'd ask later.

Setting the bike by the ancient gas pumps outside, they pull the small box off the back, hanging the luggage straps over the seat for later. It rattles as they readjust their grip, and their mouth tips up faintly on one side as they take a peek to check for damage. Cherri and Show Pony were going to love what they'd found, and there were a few new tapes for Dr. D, too.

This wasn't the first time Void had been past the Diner, but they'd never had a reason to stop there before. Apparently the old DJ had moved in, after narrowly avoiding a raid on his last station, a tiny building that used to be a donut stand on the edges of Zones 2 and 3. All things considered, the Diner was definitely an upgrade.

Well, at least from the outside. Who knows what the inside looked like. Stepping through the door, they set the box on the nearby table and look around for signs of life. 'Doc?'

There is a moment of clattering from a room on the other side, before five faces peek out from behind the doorframe. Void doesn't recognise any of them, and instantly feels their throat instinctively constrict (brain screaming the questions that they can't get out) just as the stranger at the front - sharp features and a shock of red hair - cocks an eyebrow and drawls out the dreaded question. 'Who are you, then?'

Well.

That's a bit of a long story for a first meeting. Also, the blonde guy on the right has a casual hand on his gun and looks to be about five seconds from drawing it if they don't answer.

_shit._

_... am i in the wrong diner?_


	2. Void Flare, the Archivist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Void Flare hasn't always lived in the desert.

There's not much to say about the early years of their life, if you could call it that. Hiding the deepest parts of yourself, even when you're sure no one suspects you, isn't really living.

Here is how the story of Void Flare _really_ starts.

16 years old, and they wake up in their BL/i-issued dormitory bed to the sounds of a disturbance outside. It takes a minute for the noise to sink in, making its way through the brain-fog of an early morning rise. The fog clears quickly, though - there are perks to living earphone-less in Battery City, despite the dangers and the subterfuge required.

The sight out the window has them running back to their footlocker, pulling out a backpack and easing up a floorboard - briefly thanking whatever powers that be that most of the BL/i-run buildings down in the Lobby still have floorboards and human security instead of slick tile and cameras - shoveling the contents of the hidden space into the bag. Swinging it over their shoulders and pulling both straps as tight as they dare - movement is going to be very important - they quietly make their way through the mostly-empty halls, seeming for all the world like they were heading to their job at the local convenience store. They wouldn't show up for their shift today. Or ever again, if they had anything to say about it.

By the time they reach the crowd milling around the group of Dracs at the nearby guard post, there is a noticeable tension in the air, and between the somewhat confused-looking citizens, there are more teenagers - maybe twenty or so - with backpacks or drawstring bags, all obviously on edge.

That's because this is all planned. The confusion is about to turn into a riot, whipped up by Battery City Underground to act as a diversion. Anyone who came packed knows this, given the information by secretive channels, and is ready to run.

They only have a minute to think before the first paint bombs go off.

Everything is suddenly a fog of colour, powdered pigments mushrooming up and spreading through the air. A nearby radio, volume maxed, screeches in protest before pounding drums and shredding guitar make their way through its speakers. Someone is yelling through a megaphone. All this is too much for the Battery City citizens, and they scatter, all at the same time.

It acts as a signal.

The backpack kids dash for the tunnel, avoiding SCARECROWS and swiping guns and medkits where they can, a last middle finger to BL/ind.

Eleven of them make it outside. Only seven make any progress down Route Guano, running fit to burst and keeping their eyes firmly fixed on the horizon. By the time they can't hear the sounds of stunner fire anymore, there are six. When they make it past the border into Zone 2, winded and weary, there are only four, and it's the smallest of them, grey eyes burning with desert wind and determination, who answers when the voices call from the nearby ruins.

They're free, and when the other teenagers leave the next day with a band of neutrals heading for the further farming communities, they stay with their rescuers and strap their stolen raygun into a spare holster. A placid freedom, farming and trading and keeping their head down, is not enough for them.

They're going to be a Killjoy.

* * *

Chaos Magnet and Autotune are veteran 'joys, if such a thing exists; Mags likes to say that they're "just two kids who forgot their pills, fell in love, and fled the fuck outta Batt City." The pair of them have been running Zone 2 for almost ten years, a long time for Killjoys that close to the city to survive. They're the first responders for any runaways making it down Route Guano - not for nothing is it called the "Getaway Mile" - looking after them until they figure out where they want to go.

Training in the harsh desert toughens anyone up quickly, tumbleweeds and motorbabies alike, and the young escapee is a quick study with good teachers. It's not long before they shoot as sharp and and hit as hard as any 'joy worth their salt, but what they really crave is knowledge. Books and music are as good as buried treasure when out scavenging, and eventually they build up a little shelf in their sleeping alcove.

They only really meet several other mildly insane residents of the desert during their time in Zone 2 - most 'joys live slightly further out, for safety. The most prominent of these is Show Pony, who turns up every once in a while to collect news and exchange gossip with Tuney and Mags. It takes a little while before they get used to the skater's flamboyant personality, but Pony is kind and adventurous and has a lot of stories to tell, so they like seeing them when they swing by on missions for Dr. Death-Defying.

They meet the Doc, too, a few times during their stint in Zone 2. The first time, he's just passing by with Cherri Cola on the way to a desert gig, stopping to avoid a routine patrol. The second time is much the same, until he notices their new determination, their incessant training, and asks them - out of sheer curiosity - why they seem to be preparing for something. They can only answer with the truth, their voice incredibly calm despite the sparks in their eyes.

'The radio told me to wake up.'

And the DJ's eyes are knowing as he nods, his words tinged with pride.

'Well, then. Guess we got a new Archivist in the Zones.'


	3. Jet Star, the Medic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Void learns that Jet Star is a good listener.

Not a single shred of backstory makes its way out of Void Flare's mouth, however, as they anxiously stare down the five faces opposing them, all showing some level of either curiosity or suspicion.

They're pretty sure they might be about to get shot at.

This concern is unfounded, however, at the sound of a van pulling up outside the diner, exhaust pipe sputtering over the tail end of a conversation as the engine cuts. _for the love of the witch, please let that be dr. d_ , Void thinks; and yeah, maybe it's basically a prayer but they really don't feel like getting laser burn today.

The door swings open, and Show Pony skates in backwards, laughing about something that the old DJ - _thank the winds_ \- is telling them as he wheels himself inside. Neither of them notice the awkward situation at first, too absorbed in what seems to be a highly amusing story, but Pony subsequently spins around and stops at the sight of Void, their eyes lighting up. 'D, it's our little bunker baby!'  
'So it is,' Dr. Death Defying replies, hiding a laugh as Pony grabs the Archivist in a bone-cracking hug. 'Try not to break 'em, they've got a job to do. I'll be back in a minute, kid; gotta find what I called you out here for.' He rolls past the strangers into the studio, where sounds of clattering and rummaging through objects begin to emerge.

Pony puts Void down, apologising as they try to get their breath back - the skater never did know their own strength. The little girl is giggling audibly from behind the red-haired stranger - who is also holding back laughter, though their black-haired friend quickly loses his own battle - and hot embarrassment flushes all the way down Void's neck, a frustrating habit that they've never been able to break. Shame locks up their vocal cords even tighter, and, more frustrating, they can sense their hands beginning to tremble where they're fiddling with the edge of their jacket. The strangers are trying to talk to them now, all at once - Pony adding commentary or _something_ on top of it all - and Void can only look back and forth between them as the static starts piling up in their brain.

_shit._

_witch, get me out of this situation now, please._

'Alright, all of you, outside now. Pony, you too - don't argue with me, out!'

The voice is unfamiliar, but the quiet that follows the sound of the door closing is not, and it eases the tension out of Void's shoulders. The voice pipes up again, but it's not directed at them, instead drifting toward the studio as its owner crosses through the doorframe. 'Doc?'  
'What's goin' on out there, Jet?'  
'Think the kid got a little overwhelmed. I sent the others outside.'  
'Ah, shit. Damn Dracs makin' me jittery and forgetful. Void?'

Doc's voice has moved into the room they're standing in, and they blink as they realise he expects a response. A nod is all they can give him, but it seems to be satisfactory, as he places a careful hand on their shoulder, apologetic. 'I'm sorry, kid. Probably should have tried to warn you I was gonna be late when the Dracs started chasin' us. Would have made this a bit easier on you having someone you knew around when you met the guys.'

They find their voice again, rusty, but enough to reassure him. 'S'okay. Just the usual problem.'  
'Still, I should have remembered to warn you Pony and I weren't gonna be the only ones here. That's on me.' He rolls back around to face the other inhabitant of the room, a tall man with a surprisingly long thatch of curly hair and a gentle face. 'I can at least introduce you to the only sensible person here,' Doc laughs, gesturing. 'This is Jet Star from the Fabulous Four, this is their stomping grounds. Jet is the man with the plan around here, even if he's not officially the boss.'

Jet Star laughs a little sheepishly, glancing to the door. 'Wouldn't the man with the plan be Poison?'  
'We all know the plans are actually yours, Jet, even if you do prefer to stand in the background and let that overdramatic rascal do the talking,' the DJ drawls out, smirking as the other man splutters briefly before lapsing into embarrassed silence. 'Anyway, Jet, this is Void Flare from Six. They are the only delivery service more reliable than the Pony Express, a damn good fighter, and they also happen to be the current Zone Archivist. Which reminds me, I still have to find those tapes for you, kid - studio's a mess. You gonna be good here for a few minutes?'  
'Yeah.'  
'Alright. I'll be back.'

Dr. Death rolls out of the room, and then it's just Void sitting in a booth, and Jet Star standing some distance away, looking at them curiously. 'I don't mean any offense, but I kind of expected the Archivist to be some old guy.'

Void huffs, amused. 'Most people do. Puts me at an advantage.'  
'How'd you end up with the job, anyway?'  
'Broken radio woke me up in the middle of the night,' they admit, sinking into the booth seat as their storytelling side takes over, letting them relax. 'Told me what I needed to know and it led me to the Archive.'  
Jet smiles, looking for approval before sitting across from them, leaning his elbows on the table. 'I get the feeling there's more to it than that, but I guess I'm not at a high enough friendship level for your whole backstory.'

He hums in thought, before sitting up straight. 'Okay. You ask me a question now.'  
'Why?' Void asks, confused.  
'It's my patented speed friendship strategy,' Jet replies with a pleased grin. 'Instead of one of us answering all the questions we go back and forth so it's more comfortable and we both get to know the other person better.'  
Void stares him down, raising an eyebrow. Jet meets it with a calm smile and a shrug. 'So?'  
'What's your job here?'

'Well,' he says, settling back in his seat, 'like Doc said, I'm sort of the second-in-command, but I'm really the medic of the crew if there's a particular role. What's it like out in Six? I haven't been there in years...'


	4. Fun Ghoul, the Wild Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes Void and Ghoul about a minute to realise they're going to be friends for life.

Several days after Void Flare is unceremoniously introduced to the crew at the Diner, the Archive transmitter crackles, Dr. D's voice sailing over the airwaves. _'Today's a good day to head down here, kid. No acid rain or storms on the way, and most of the gang is busy. Come and make another friend if you want to. Doc out.'_

It surprises them how much they actually want to now that the initial fear has passed, and it's not long before they've packed their bike's delivery box and fired up the engine, making their way through the quieter routes to Zone 4. The box rattles a little on the way - mildly irritating - but the storybooks and old toys inside should be just what Jet Star had asked them to try and find for the Diner's resident six-year-old.

How they're managing to raise a kid in the middle of the Zones without a farm, doctor, or other children close by is something Void will probably never understand.

The flaking pastel paint on the Diner walls is bright in the morning sun when they bring the bike to a stop under the awning, and they glance around to note that the van is absent from its usual place and the garage door is closed, clanging and buzzing sounds making their way from behind it. Pony skates out and waves when they spot Void, moving in for a hug. 'Hey, little frankenbunny! Cool that I caught you before I have to zoom into town.'  
'Got errands for Doc D.?'

They shrug, patting the messenger bag slung across their shoulder. 'Gotta keep the first aid kit stocked, you know. The guys got in a clap yesterday.'  
'Dracs?' Void asks, frowning. They hadn't heard of any major skirmishes yesterday, but not everything in the desert became Zone news. Doc must have kept the clap quiet for some reason.  
'Exterminator,' Pony replies, with a meaningful look at Void's raised eyebrows. 'They got out of there quick, but Poison somehow managed to crunch the gearbox of the Am - Kid's been in the garage all morning tuning the thing - and Ghoulie got a nasty rayburn to the arm, so he's recuperating inside while the others are on a food run.'  
'Doc kept it quiet?'  
'It's a long story. Damn, I better move before it gets too hot, but I'll be back in a couple hours, yeah? We can talk about what's been happening!'

Void nods, seeing them off down Route Guano before detaching the delivery box and making their way inside. The main room is mostly empty, but a dark-haired head startles upright from one of the booths when the door closes a little too loudly. Its owner rubs a hand over an exhausted face and blinks at the light coming from outside before spotting Void's apologetic grimace by the entrance. 'Oh, hey. Doc said you might be coming in today. Something about books for the Girl?'  
'Uh. Yes?'  
'Think she's out the back, but if she heard the door then -' A patter of small feet catches their attention, and both heads turn to see a mess of curly hair rush in from outside and stop in front of Void and their box. 'Hi! Jet said you were bringing books!'

The archivist has to blink a few times at the sheer exuberance of the small child in front of them, before a small smile catches at the corner of their mouth as they hand the box over. 'There's some other things in there I had lying around you might like, too. I didn't know what to look for exactly.'  
'Oh, that's okay! I'll go have a look through them in my room and put everything away so you can have your box back. Back later!'

The Girl runs off, and the other occupant of the room smirks at the confused expression on Void's face. 'She's always like that. Doesn't let anything get her down if she can help it, our Girly.' A huff of amusement. 'Don't think we've been properly introduced. Fun Ghoul.'  
'Void Flare.'  
'Sick name.'  
'Thanks. What's your job around here?'

Fun Ghoul's face splits into a wild grin. 'Fucking shit up. Explosives, guns, traps - you name it.'  
'There's a child in this establishment, mind your fucking language,' Void replies, deadpan, and Ghoul stares for several long seconds at their sardonic expression before bursting into laughter, slapping the table and wincing when it jars his raygun burn. 'Ow. We're gonna get along just fine, I can tell. C'mon, let's humor Jet and do his speed friendship strategy thing, just in case he grills us when he gets back.'

_Huh_. Maybe making friends was easier than Void had originally thought. They sit down across the table from Ghoul and he leans forward like a conspiring mastermind. 'Now... how are you with pranks? Because it's third Tuesday - I'll explain later - and I only have one good arm right now...'

He has the decency to look at least a little shocked when their practiced fuck-shit-up smirk crawls across their face. For the first time in years, they realise later after the two of them have booby-trapped almost the entire Diner.

'You're just as battshit as the rest of us, aren't you?' Ghoul cackles at the sound of the Trans Am pulling up outside, and Void grins, a real one that almost - almost - makes them wonder why they ever thought being alone was a good idea.

This friends thing might be a better one, after all.


End file.
